Who's That?
by hullosweetpea
Summary: Dean tries to comfort a sick Sammy, but instead Sammy wants to know who the blonde lady in Dean's photo is. Young Dean & Toddler Sammy


**A/N: I got the idea for this story after seeing Dean put the photo of him and Mary in his bedroom at the bunker. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Kripke's**

Who's That?

Dean laid on a spare bed at Bobby's, the summer heat sticky even up in South Dakota. He watched the ceiling fan as it lazily spun above him wishing there was some kind of relief. With an exasperated sigh Dean crawled out of the bed and shuffled to the nearby window and wrenched it open; the old frame squeaking as it gave way and a sluggish breeze filtered through. As Dean tried as silently as he could to creep back in his bed he heard a cough and a snuffle.

He turned around and saw Sam tangled in his blankets, a bit of drool on his pillow, and using his sleeve to wipe snot away from his red nose. John had dropped off Dean and Sam at Bobby's for the next few days while he pursued a lead a couple states over. Sam's cold wasn't as apparent then, but it was now. Bobby had given the toddler cough medicine, but he still looked terrible and Dean figured he probably felt it too. He walked over to the sleeping Sammy and placed a hand on his forehead and felt it was still warm. He pulled the blankets away from Sam, but he grabbed them back. Dean frowned and pulled harder, but Sam held tight. With a tug Dean had them free, but was met with Sam's weary, sleep addled eyes. "Dean? I wants my blankie back."

He shook his head and shoved them to the foot of the bed. "Sorry Sammy. You're too sick for blankets. You'll get better, just go back to sleep."

"I miss Daddy. When'll he be back?"

"I don't know Sammy."

Sam stared at his big brother and yawned. "I'm sleepy."

Dean smiled with a sigh. "Go back to sleep. Bobby'll give you meds in the morning."

"M'kay," replied Sam as he rested his head back on his pillow.

With that crisis adverted Dean crawled back into his bed, kicking the covers as far down as they could possibly go. The air was starting to chill the room and Dean relaxed knowing Sam would feel better. He stuck his hand under his pillow and pulled out a well-worn photograph, the edges crinkled over time, but still warming his young heart. He let his fingers run over his mom, frozen in that moment, a smile upon her face. Dean smiled fondly as he remembered when that photo was taken in the last heat of the Kansas summer before Sam was born, a sluggish day like tonight was. He curled his fingers around the edges and down casted his eyes. He would do anything to go back to that day, or any day with Mary for that matter. Or even a world where their lives hadn't been changed by fire, one where he wasn't holding so much responsibility. Mary would he here to take care of Sam, to give him cough medicine and sing Hey Jude. John wouldn't be hunting out of state, but would most likely be sleeping with Mary or asleep in front of the television. What he wouldn't give to be the care free child in the picture. Dean ran his hand haphazardly through his hair and remembered when he used to cut it long like that, mostly because he loved it when Mary ran her hands through it when he was upset. It had become a comfort for him. He felt the tears starting to well up and he knew he needed to put the photo away and get some sleep so he could help Bobby take care of Sammy tomorrow.

"Who's that?"

Dean looked up and saw Sam had walked over some time while he was staring at the photo and now looked curiously at it. Dean held it closer to his chest. "Me."

Sammy shook his head and his chubby toddler fingers grasped the edges to pull it down. "Noes, who's the lady in the pic'ure. She looks nice."

Dean scowled and placed it back under his pillow. "None of your beeswax."

"Oh," Sam looked crest fallen and he wiped snot away from his nose again. "You kinda looks like her. Have I mets her before?"

"No," growled Dean.

Sam tilted his head to the side. "How come you gots to, but I didn't. Just 'cause I'm littler doesn't mean I can'ts meet people."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. "'Cause it's Mom and she's dead!"

Sam looked at Dean with wide eyes and coughed. "I'm sowry, Dean. I didn't means to make you mad. I just wanted to noes. You looked happy. I wanted to noes who made you so happy."

Dean crossed his arms. "It's fine Sammy."

Sam fell forward and wrapped Dean around him in a hug. "She looked nice," he mumbled into Dean's shirt.

"Yeah," he muttered back.

"Was she nice?"

Dean patted Sam back. "The nicest."

"Did she kiss your boo-boos for you like you do for me?"

"Yeah," Dean said fondly. He ruffled Sam's hair and felt a tiny bit of normalcy at the moment. Dean let his fingers stroke through Sam's hair one last time. "Go back to sleep Sammy. You'll get better sooner if you do."

Sam gave Dean one last hug before walking back to his bed and falling asleep as his head hit the pillow.

Dean pulled the photo out one last time. "I'm sorry Mom. I don't want to share you and I know that's selfish, but when I do you don't seem as dead." He paused. "I'll...I'll try to tell Sammy 'bout you. He should know. More than I what I just told him. He needs to know everything." He put the photo under his pillow and let his fingers linger over Mary one last time. "I love you." He dropped the pillow back on the mattress and fell asleep.


End file.
